


Plaudite (The Draco Fucking Malfoy Epilogue)

by Volo



Series: My HP/DM Fanworks [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, Father-Son Relationship, Harry Potter Epilogue Compliant, I think Albus has a bit of a crush on Astoria in this, M/M, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, One-Sided Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, POV Outsider, Scorpius Malfoy & Albus Severus Potter Friendship, the Drarry parts are all more on the implied side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 15:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18626032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Volo/pseuds/Volo
Summary: With every single word that came out of his mouth – every rumour about the Minister and his secretary, every insulting remark about the host’s outfit, every brag about the price he’d paid for the newest artefact in his collection, every too biting joke about Headmistress McGonagall’s possibly red-and-gold knickers – Malfoy came more alive. And yet...there was something peculiar about his attitude.(An outsider POV character study of Draco Malfoy.)





	Plaudite (The Draco Fucking Malfoy Epilogue)

**Author's Note:**

> this fic’s definitely more character study than plot. you know PWP? this is basically CSWP. And not the most optimistic one, I think.
> 
> this is epilogue compliant, but not Cursed Child compliant, although I did take some bits and pieces of CC canon. Some characters are inspired by their CC characterisations, but not 100%.
> 
> “Plaudite” is Latin and means “applaud!” (as a command to a group of people). It was often said at the end of plays.

The first time Albus officially met Draco Malfoy, the man came up to him at King’s Cross and said, as if introducing him to a crowd, ‘Albus Severus Potter.’

‘Er, yes, sir,’ Albus replied and regretted it immediately.

Malfoy, because of his height and distinct platinum hair and his traditionally cut black robes on a platform full of wizards in Muggle clothing, stood out. But the thing that struck Albus was the way Malfoy stood there with slightly spread legs, hands clasped in front of him, multiple rings glinting on his fingers, obviously expecting everybody else to move around him on the full platform.

A corner of Malfoy’s mouth curled up as though he was sharing a joke with himself. Albus had exchanged five words with the man and already felt wrong-footed. He crossed his arms.

‘My son tells me you’re good friends...’

‘Yeah, best friends,’ Albus answered, trying to communicate _“Your son told me he sometimes wishes he weren’t your son”_ without actually saying it nor sounding too insolent.

Malfoy’s pale eyes narrowed, and his voice went low. ‘My son, for whatever reason, seems to adore you. Now, I’m sure you would never do _anything_ to betray the trust he gives you.’

‘Er, yeah. I’d never –’

‘But if you did...you would regret it.’

Albus frowned, floundered. ‘But...I’d never –’

Malfoy looked away, already seeming bored with the conversation. Albus could barely deal with the realisation that he’d just, out of the blue, been vaguely threatened over a friendship. Scorpius had, of course, said negative and positive things about his father, but at that moment Albus had a hard time remembering or believing the positive ones. He also knew that Malfoy wasn’t a Death Eater anymore, had barely ever been, that Dad and most of his Auror friends thought Malfoy was just an attention-seeking arse for the most part. Despite all of that, the man intimidated him a bit.

Dad came up from behind Malfoy, the entire platform whispering and pointing behind them. Malfoy should have startled when Dad clapped him on the shoulder – Albus suspected that Dad had intended to startle him – but he didn’t.

‘Malfoy. Hi, Albus.’

Malfoy turned his head. His eyes wandered over Dad’s face and then, a bit quicker, over his body, his Auror robes. Seeing Malfoy so very obviously cataloguing every wrinkle, every possible weakness in Dad’s stance, Albus had to fight the urge to defend the small scar on Dad’s jaw. Albus’ dad was Head Auror, and Malfoy didn’t even have a job. According to St. Mungo’s press statements, he did research on Healing Potions – but just as a hobby.

Malfoy’s lip curled, but his tone was neutral. ‘Potter. Long time no see, fortunately. I see you weren’t able to stop this madness either.’

‘I understand how an idea as foreign to you as a genuine friendship between human beings might confuse you.’

Malfoy stood up straighter. ‘The only thing in the entire world that _confuses_ me is your fans’ continued complete rejection of reality. It got pathetic long ago.’

Dad _snorted_. ‘Ah, Malfoy, I’d say it’s good to see you again, but I have a scar on my hand that tells me not to lie.’

Malfoy shifted, turning toward Dad and away from Albus. His eyes shone with _something_ Albus assumed was barely concealed hatred. ‘A scar, you say? How impressive. I also have a cool scar! It’s on my chest. I got it in Sixth Year.’

‘Playing the victim is so _nineties_ , Malfoy.’

Before Malfoy could answer, Dad turned toward Albus and asked him, ‘You ready to go home?’

Albus saw rage shoot into Malfoy’s eyes at the dismissal.

Albus' first meeting with Mrs. Malfoy went much better.

Nobody would call Astoria Malfoy _sweet_ , but she smiled at Albus and introduced herself, neither of which her husband had done. Astoria Malfoy was an incredibly pretty woman, in an ethereal way. With her long, light-brown curly hair and blue eyes and round face, she looked a bit like those pictures of Mary in Muggle religious art. Albus was absolutely sure Malfoy didn’t deserve his wife. He didn’t properly appreciate her either, barely talking to her in public.

Albus was quite sure they barely talked at home either. They were both obviously raised in similar ways, but they differed in ways Albus _felt_ but couldn’t explain. Albus only really understood it the first time Scorpius invited him to a party at the Manor and Albus saw the Malfoys in the company of other former Slytherins.

With every single word that came out of his mouth – every rumour about the Minister and his secretary, every insulting remark about the host’s outfit, every brag about the price he’d paid for the newest artefact in his collection, every too biting joke about Headmistress McGonagall’s possibly red-and-gold knickers – Malfoy came more alive. And yet...there was something peculiar about his attitude.

Astoria carried her poise with grace and ease, as if it was simply the natural thing to her. She seemed to genuinely enjoy herself. Malfoy, on the other hand, seemed as if he were permanently preparing to jump, as if he were being held in a cage and all it made him want to do was hurt people rather than break out, as if he were wielding a knife but manners dictated he had to always point it at the ground. There was always, always running tension through Draco Malfoy, even when he should have been in his element.

The most important thing Albus ever realised about Draco Malfoy was the fact that he was constantly itching to fight his way to the top of the food chain of every room he entered. Not because it was necessary, but because he needed it.

And Albus suspected that even if he weren’t hated by 70% of the Wizarding population, even if he had everything he could possibly want, all the power in the world, Draco Malfoy would still be struggling with an internal hunger for more.


End file.
